


Same and Opposites

by himynameisrandomname



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, F/M, Healer Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-07 05:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19203220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himynameisrandomname/pseuds/himynameisrandomname
Summary: After a sharing a complicated and awkward history, Harry and Draco are reunited at the FlintWood wedding. Will they be able to rekindle what they once shared?





	Same and Opposites

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [love the way you love me back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819216) by [slyther_ing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyther_ing/pseuds/slyther_ing). 



Oliver and Marcus' wedding was brilliant.

After all the Hogwarts rivalry, all the muttered curses thrown at each other, after  _everything,_ Harry never truly thought it would work out. Sure, for Wood's sake he'd been supportive, but he had always expected it to fizzle out or blow up in everyone's faces. 

But, as he entered the stunning venue, a Flint summer estate decorated with bright crystal chandeliers and little snitches zooming around near the ceiling, and as he listened to their heartfelt vows (that may have made him cry a little), Harry knew that they had found each other, and that they had made it work.

Harry could not be happier for them, having remained close with them post-Hogwarts, and he sat at his designated table with a feeling of elation for his friends. That is, until he laid eyes on the blonde git that was seated next to him. 

* * *

After the war, McGonagall had created a temporary program for the seventh years during the war to be able to take, or retake, their NEWTs, due to the stressful circumstances. Hermione nagged him and Ron constantly until they agreed to rejoin for an eighth year, pleading that they needed to understand the theory and nuances behind the magic if they wanted to succeed and be good aurors. 

Harry found himself sitting at a new table in the Great Hall, filled with the eighth years who had chosen to return. Malfoy was sitting at the end of the table, along with Parkinson and Zabini, the outcast of their new house. No one wanted to talk to the Slytherins, much less former Death Eaters who had fallen from favor with the public eye. Sullenly, Malfoy poked at his food with a fork, and Harry remembered that returning had been part of his sentence at his trial. 

Harry caught Malfoy's eye and jerked his head towards the door discreetly. "I have to use the restroom," he told Hermione and Ron, swinging his legs over the bench. 

As he exited the hallway, he waited a few minutes with bated breath. Was Malfoy even going to show? His heart pounding an excruciating beat for every second that passed, he felt anxiety build up in him the longer he waited. He cursed under his breath - this was so stupid, why was he still getting so worked up over Malfoy? If the dumb blonde git didn't want to talk, he would just carry on.

Right as Harry was approaching the end of his rope and about to leave, Malfoy exited the Great Hall, a bit of a flush on his cheeks. Harry's heart began pounding even harder, even though this was exactly what he'd wanted. 

"Potter." Malfoy said firmly. "What do you need?"

"I just wanted to say, can we please be friends? I just don't want to deal with the constant back and forth, and, it's just too much okay? The war is over and we need to set an example and move on." Harry finished his little speech, noting Malfoy's blank face. 

"Malfoy.  _The war is over._ Please.  _Please."_

Malfoy broke into a slow grin, as though he was testing out what a smile could even feel like after a long time. "Well, I suppose if Boy Wonder is  _begging for it_." His face softened, "We can try Potter. But I can't promise you I won't still be a sarcastic arse."

Harry clasped his hand in a solid shake, "I wouldn't want it any other way with you."

* * *

Seeing Malfoy put a cold, dead weight in his chest. After so long, after thinking he was over him, it still hurt to see his face. His devastatingly beautiful face. Harry forced himself to get a bloody grip. It had been five years, there was no way he could still be pining after Malfoy. 

And yet. Malfoy was  _everything._ The way the light from the chandeliers caught on his silky hair, making it seem more golden than blonde. The way his neck shifted up ever so slightly as he laughed deeply at a comment Blaise had made. His gorgeous grey eyes, and the magnitude Harry knew they had contained inside of them, revealing every little part of his character. The vulnerability they had shown, as well as they strength, as Malfoy overcame the after-effects of the war. Harry wondered if his eyes still had so much depth, or if he had become the shallow boy he had forced himself to be at the end of their time at Hogwarts. 

Hermione nudged him slightly and muttered, "Harry, stop staring at Malfoy, it's really obvious."

"'Mione, he's a healer now, right?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I heard he mainly works in the ward of Uncurables, trying to reverse the effects of the Dark Magic inflicted upon them. People like Neville's parents. But since he's so skilled, and since Mungo's is so understaffed, he's sometimes pulled in for extremely threatening emergencies."

Harry mulled this over a little. Malfoy must have changed for the better, or else he would be in politics or something his father had been gearing him towards. Or at least something he loved passionately, like Quidditch. The fact that he was pouring his everything into fixing the effects of Dark Magic meant he was still trying to repent for the residual guilt he felt from the war. 

Harry felt an ache in his chest. He knew how it felt to be stuck longing to change the past. 

* * *

 Harry was absolutely seething with rage, his anger overwhelming and almost blinding him. He had been heading over to visit Hagrid (mainly to avoid Ron and Hermione, because as much as they tried to include him, sometime's their couple-y behaviour made him a little sick), when he heard muffled grunts in an adjacent corridor. 

Rushing over to figure out the source of the commotion, he saw a group of fifth year Hufflepuffs hexing Malfoy with advanced curses. Curses, he realized, that they had learned in the DA. 

"Take that, Death Eater," spat Justin Finch-Fletchley's younger brother, as he shot a particularly nasty  _Diffindo_ at Malfoy. 

Malfoy refused to let out any more noise than a muffled groan.  _Arrogant bastard_ , Harry thought. Would it kill him to beg for a little mercy and save himself? Harry had never anticipated feeling protective of Malfoy, but on impulse he yelled out at the Hufflepuffs to leave him alone. Fearful of getting caught, the Hufflepuffs scrambled, leaving Malfoy in the hallway.

Harry's heart plummeted when he focused his gaze on Malfoy. He was curled in a ball, lying on the cold hard floor of the hallway, occasionally twitching from pain. 

Harry rushed over to him. "Malfoy, are you okay, mate?" He and Malfoy had developed a tentative friendship that consisted of them occasionally eating together in the kitchens to avoid the overwhelming attention they got. He shook Malfoy a little, trying to get a closer look at his face. 

Malfoy's face was bruised and bloodied, his puffy eye reminiscent of the stinging jinx Harry had faced from the Snatchers during the war. His lip was split, and there was a little bit of blood coming out of his mouth. However, the most concerning part was his body; his twitching indicated broken ribs, and there was a nasty cut on his arm, from the  _Diffindo._

Without a second thought, Harry scooped Malfoy up and took him to Pomfrey. She pursed her lips upon seeing him, with a familiar look of resignation and disapproval on her face.

"Madam Pomfrey, has this happened before to Malfoy?" Harry questioned, though he did not want to hear the answer, a leaden feeling spreading through his chest. 

"Mr. Potter, this has not just been happening to Mr. Malfoy. Sure, he has probably received the worst of it due to who his father is and his close affiliation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but this has happened to all of the older Slytherins for either having family members who were Death Eaters, previously having been pureblood sympathizers or simply for evading the war."

Angrily, Harry briefed Professor McGonagall on the situation and asked her if he could make an announcement during dinner, to which she did not object. During the dinner, before the food had arrived, Harry declared that anyone who resorted to violence in the halls of Hogwarts would be banned from his dueling club, and that it was time for everyone to move on from the war. He firmly insisted upon the innocence of Malfoy, Zabini, Parkinson and the other Slytherins, and though he could tell the other students did not approve of his support of the Slytherins, they had no choice but to listen to him. 

McGonagall also pitched in with the threat of expulsion to anyone who continued to bully the Slytherins, and took 50 points from Hufflepuff in front of the entire school, calling out by name the people involved in the attack. 

Every evening, Harry would visit Malfoy in the Hospital Wing, bringing him homework and notes from the day, and keeping him company. In return, Malfoy helped him with his homework, read over his essays and became a good companion to Harry, especially in times that he needed to escape Ron and Hermione. 

* * *

"Potter. May I have this dance?" A pale hand was outstretched in front of him, and Harry gaped at it, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. After Flint and Wood's first dance, they had extended the dance floor to their guests, and a few songs in, Malfoy had approached Harry's side of the table. 

Ron and Hermione looked as though their eyeballs were about to pop out of their sockets. Right. Harry had never disclosed to them the truth of his relationship with Malfoy. 

Harry took Malfoy's hand with a slightly skeptical look and stood up, mouthing to Ron and Hermione that he would explain later. Malfoy smiled a little, and guided Harry to the dance floor.

"What are you playing at Malfoy? You ignore me five years after our ...thing at Hogwarts, and then pop out of the blue for a  _dance_?" Harry honestly could not believe the gall Malfoy showed sometimes. 

Malfoy smirked a little, "You have been ogling me all evening. Potter, what we had was fun so stop trying to ruin it. What do you say, fancy one more night? For old times' sake?"

Harry wanted more than anything to reject Malfoy, to let him know that he has better prospects (which, he did, but none of them ever compared to  _him_ ). He wanted more than anything to wipe the cocky smirk off of Malfoy's face when he understood that he was no longer needed, and that his actions had consequences. 

He wanted to. But more than that, he wanted  _this_. He wanted Malfoy. 

And even though he knew his heart would break into a million pieces, again, after Malfoy would inevitably leave, he still wanted Malfoy. He would take whatever he could get, even knowing it was doomed for failure, because Malfoy was everything to him. 

Resignedly, he met Malfoy's waiting gaze. "I'm going to exit this building, meet outside in two minutes so we don't attract unwanted attention. We'll apparate to my place."

* * *

 The companionship he got from Malfoy, Harry had come to realize, was unlike that from any other friend. It made sense why they were the perfect rivals all these years now - Malfoy was in every way the same and the opposite to him, and because of that, he was able to understand him.

For example, Malfoy was a Slytherin. In every way that was opposite to his own Gryffindor attributes, but at the same time, Harry had almost been sorted into Slytherin. Same and opposites. Both were interested in quidditch, but they played for different teams. Both were interested in helping people, but while Harry wanted to be an auror, Malfoy wanted to be a healer. Same and opposites. 

He probably would have understood the deeper stuff too. Both of them had trauma from the war, nightmares that they would never stop having. But, Malfoy never let Harry talk about the war, or anything related. 

"I just want to forget," he would say, eyes closed as though to shut off any images or thoughts about the war. So Harry let him forget. 

But closing his eyes wouldn't help Harry ignore the way he was beginning to feel about Malfoy. Malfoy, who was sitting next to him in the Shrieking Shack, which Harry had renovated during the summer of rebuilding Hogwarts. Harry had taken him there when Malfoy had complained about the library being to loud to study, and they met up there every afternoon after Charms. 

This afternoon, Harry and Malfoy sat snuggled just a little to close to be considered purely platonic on the cozy couch Harry had put in the Shack. Malfoy was reading a book about potions and their applications in the medical field, while Harry practiced the Protean charm on a bunch of 'Potter Stinks' badges Malfoy had gladly procured for him. 

Malfoy nudged Harry gently. "Potter, read this page. I want to get your thoughts on it." 

Harry scanned the words lightly at first, but as the topic became more interesting he grabbed the book from Malfoy's hands and read that section more in-depth. The passage contained a detailed drawing to go along with the words, depicting the reversal of a Dementor's kiss. 

"Bloody hell Malfoy. You really think-you think you can reverse the Kiss?" Harry was astonished.

"Well, I can't perform a Patronus, which is why I wanted to get your opinion-do you think the Patronus has to be conjured over the potion as it's being brewed by the brewer for it to work? Or do you think anyone can perform it?"

This threw Harry off guard. "Wait, what do you mean you can't cast a Patronus?" He asked, brow furrowed. 

"Potter, what do you think I meant by that statement," Malfoy used snark as a defense against his shortcomings. 

"Stop being a ponce Malfoy. I'll teach you." Harry was not going to take no for an answer, so Malfoy gave in.  

* * *

As signalled by the telltale crack of Apparition, they arrived in the hallway of Harry's flat. Harry was surprised they did not get splinched in the process, as they could not keep their hands off of each other, making out even as they Apparated.

"Malfoy," Harry tried to get out his words as Malfoy kissed up his neck. He knew that he could not sleep with Malfoy without the latter knowing the enormity of his feelings, it wouldn't be fair to either of them. "Draco, I need to tell you something," He panted.

Startled at the use of his first name, Malfoy pulled away briefly for a second, confused. "What is it?"

"Mal- Draco. Draco, I - it's so hard to articulate what I'm feeling, but you need to know that I still love-"

"Potter. Stop." Malfoy's expression of pain made Harry hesitate for a second, but then he tried to push past it and continue.

"Malfoy, I -"

" _Harry."_ Malfoy was looking anywhere but at Harry, knowing that those searching green eyes would ruin him. He tried to push an expression of nonchalance onto his features. "I don't want to hear it. Don't kill this mood."

And Harry wanted to pull away. He wanted so bad to be the stronger one in this moment, to leave Malfoy because he knew this would ruin him, that if the mirror of Erisid were in front of him, he would see himself slamming his door in Malfoy's face. 

Except that was a lie. Harry would do anything for even the smallest of moments with Draco. Just to relive what they once had, what they could have had. It put an ache in his chest picturing it, and he still wanted it but he would take what he could get. His mirror of Erisid would be them just now (or maybe them planning a future together, if his deepest desires dared to dream). Always had been when he was with Draco. 

And so he unlocked his flat with a bit of wandless magic, and closed the door softly behind them, prepared to give himself completely to Draco Malfoy. 

* * *

Harry had been instructing Malfoy on how to cast a Patronus for a little under two months, and he could see Malfoy sharply becoming more and more frustrated as time went on. 

"This just isn't working!" Malfoy exclaimed furiously, kicking a chair in the empty Charms classroom. His anger and frustration had built up throughout the entire lesson that day, building up into a very impressive tantrum. Malfoy let his energy out, cursing a desk with a strong Reducto, and then to Harry's surprise, sank to the floor with his head in his hands. 

Harry wasn't sure what was scarier - the destructive Malfoy who just tore apart this classroom, or the Malfoy crying in front of him. He was starting to think it was probably the latter, because he had entirely no idea what to do. He hovered awkwardly for a minute, trying to figure out what to say, and ended up extending his hand towards Malfoy's shoulder. 

Instead (he wasn't exactly sure how), he ended up with his hand in Malfoy's, trying to remember that it was solely just to comfort him. But Malfoy's hand was cool in his warm one, and he couldn't help thinking they were made for each other, that they fit in every possible way. 

"Er, Malfoy," he said, after pondering for a moment on how best to voice his thoughts. "I think maybe the reason you can't produce a Patronus is that, er-"

"I don't have enough happy memories." Malfoy's voice was dull, and his face bore a gloomy expression.

Though he knew Malfoy would not like it, Harry couldn't help but pity him. His voice softened. "Malfoy, this year has been hard on all of us. You just don't have one happy  _enough_. But that's the great thing about rebuilding - you can make more of them."

They were incredibly close. Harry was still holding Malfoy's hand, and he was suddenly hyperaware of that fact.

Malfoy looked up at him through his lashes. Harry was close enough to him to see that their roots were slightly darker than their tips, and that Malfoy had a faint cluster of freckles on the bridge of his nose. 

Malfoy's voice was barely a whisper when he said, "I'd like to make more with you," and he leaned in ever so slightly, pressing his lips to Harry's.

Harry wondered if he should be panicking - this was him and Malfoy kissing, it would probably be enough to give Ron a mini heart-attack. But there was a warm feeling in his chest, as he wrapped his arms around Malfoy, deepening their kiss. In the back of his mind, he thought about how different this was from when he kissed Ginny, or Cho (the only similarity with Cho was that there had been crying involved, Harry thought, which was certainly a weird type to have). 

Slowly, Malfoy pulled away, still holding Harry firmly. Then, he reached out with his arm and -

"Expecto Patronum!" Out of his wand burst a small animal, with four tiny legs, a pudgy body and a cute little face. 

Holy Merlin, it was a ferret. Harry snorted loudly, an incredulous look on his face. He turned back to face Malfoy and saw him turning a steady red, the color even more pronounced due to how pale he was. 

"I cannot  _believe_ your Patronus is a bloody ferret." Harry massaged his forehead a little, trying to alleviate the headache he knew was sure to follow from this debacle. Despite this, he was so proud of Malfoy, and for the first time after the war, he felt genuinely hopeful for his future. For their future together. "Sometimes I think your entire purpose in life is just to have some snarky quip to keep me on my toes, to the point where your subconscious complies by making my Patronus a bloody _ferret_."

Malfoy simply shrugged, a slight smirk pulling on the corners of his lips. "I like ferrets. Moody really helped me explore this side of myself."

* * *

Harry grimaced as they entered his flat via Apparition. Sure, there was nothing embarrassing or messy in sight, but his home was so untouched that it looked like he did not even live there. To be fair though, he hardly spent time in his house, preferring to always be doing something so he wouldn't succumb to loneliness. 

Draco obviously picked up on this, scanning his living room with his eyebrows raised skeptically, but thankfully did not comment. What he did do was attach Harry with a look so sultry and dirty and positively delicious that Harry immediately attached himself to Draco, taking whatever he could get. 

He leaned in to kiss Draco, a little unsure, and became bolder when Draco met him halfway, just as eager. As they kissed, a warm and familiar feeling unfurled in Harry's chest, reminiscent of all those kisses, back in their eighth year of Hogwarts. Harry couldn't believe that he had forgotten this feeling, that he had been missing it for so long. 

He was determined to make up for it in the short time they had left together, determined to never forget Draco. And, determined to never have Draco forget him, the way they were together, marking him with hickeys that would linger on his pale skin, even after Draco would leave again.

Throughout the night, Harry went through it with the sole purpose of having Draco remember him, of having his name on Draco's lips. 

* * *

As the school year was coming to an end, Harry requested Draco (it had changed from Malfoy to Draco after months of dating and sneaking around) to meet at the Apparition point for a surprise. When Draco showed up, he Apparated them both to the new flat he'd bought, in London near the Ministry.

Harry showed him inside, heart beating frantically as he felt more and more nervous. 

"Harry, this is such a nice place. And it's so close to the Ministry, you'll love it." Draco looked so genuinely happy for him that Harry's heart was going to melt. He had really lucked out with Draco, and he was so excited to spend his life with him. Which brought him to his question. 

"Will you move in with me? I know you're planning on becoming a healer. And, Mungo's is so close to here. You could intern there, and one day get a full time position. I know it's a little soon, but there's two bedrooms, so we could move in as friends, in case, you know, and it's perfect because Ron is going to live with Hermione so I really need a roommate anyways, and I  _really_   want to see you and be with you-" Harry rambled on, cutting off midway when he noticed Malfoy's face had gone stone cold. "What's wrong?"

"Potter."  _Shit. They were back to last names?_ "I can't move in with you, sorry."

"Is it too fast?" Harry questioned, feeling overwhelmed with disappointment. He had just put his heart out on a silver platter and handed it to Draco, only to have Draco throw it back in his face. "At least take a key, so you can visit, if it is."

Draco refused once again, to Harry's utter bewilderment. "I just - I can't," he forced out, and then turned on his heel. 

Harry watched as Draco left the flat, closing the door firmly shut behind him, which felt like a symbol for their brief relationship coming to its close as well. Harry forced himself not to think in such ominous terms, and tiredly flopped down on the little love-seat he had bought for the both of them.

 

For the rest of the school year, despite Harry's frequent efforts to talk to Malfoy (he switched back to Malfoy after Malfoy switched back to being an arse), Malfoy avoided Harry like the plague.

Ron told him it was frankly better this way. "C'mon mate, there are way hotter witches and wizards than Malfoy. And this time, you can choose someone who preferably isn't emotionally stunted with a stick up their arse."

 

And as the term ended, Harry graduated Hogwarts with a heavy heart, trying not to look to the past.

* * *

A quiet grunt was all it took to wake Harry up. After the war he had been too light of a sleeper, jumping awake at any disturbance out of reflex. Eyes wide open, Harry belately registered a half-naked Malfoy searching around for his shirt.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, illuminating a large, jagged scar that ran across his chest,  _the Sectumsempra_ _scar._ While Harry felt a twinge of remorse, he mostly had gotten over the guilt, putting their past behind him. Malfoy, however, misinterpreted his staring, and quickly tugged on his shirt, buttoning it frantically. 

Harry sat up, leaning against the headboard for support. "You weren't even going to say goodbye then?" He said nastily, watching as Malfoy flinched in surprise. He carried on anyways, launching into a mini-rant. 

"I knew you wouldn't have the balls to face me after, that's why I said my place. At least this way you can't kick me out, and  _humiliate_ me _again_. Not the way you did when you me away the first time." 

Malfoy looked strangely vulnerable for the tiniest second, and it pulled on Harry's heartstrings. His stomach twisted unpleasantly, but he pushed it down. A moment later, his Malfoy mask was back on, cool and composed.

"It never would have worked Potter-"

"Harry." Harry interjected, irritated.

"Fine,  _Harry,_ it never would have worked because we are too different, too opposite. We never could have understood each other's stances in the war, never could have gotten past the deep stuff. And I hate to break it to you, but relationships can't survive on just fucking."

Wow. Malfoy could not have hurt him more if he had just punched him in the gut. "We were more than that," Harry whispered quietly.

Harry looked at Malfoy,  _Draco_ , a square look. There was no pity, no pandering or sugarcoating in his expression. It was almost unnerving how he looked at him like he knew all of Draco's flaws, but Draco felt calm because the look was _accepting_. 

Harry walked over to Draco, and pulled up his left sleeve, his eyes not leaving Draco's. Draco's heart began racing, afraid of Harry's reaction, afraid it would blow up like he had predicted.

Harry's voice was soft and gentle. "You took the Mark. To save your mother, because you were forced. Sure, you may have been brainwashed for a while, and done bad things, but you were not a bad person." He moved his hand away from Draco's arm, and Draco tried not to reach out for his warmth. He realized Harry was reaching for his shirt buttons.

Harry unbuttoned Draco's shirt precisely and carefully, as though Draco was a flight risk or a mail item with that big ugly pink fragile sticker slapped on it. Which, fair. Slowly, Harry uncovered the ugly silver curse scar from that fateful evening in Myrtle's bathroom. 

"I've made my mistakes too Draco. We are opposites, sure, but we are also the same." He extended a hand, and Draco wondered how many times they would be in that particular situation, one offering friendship and opening themselves up to vulnerability, with all the power in the other's hand. "Draco. Take my hand, and give us a chance."

 

And Draco decided  _fuck it._ Might as well throw caution to the wind, see this thing through. Worst case, he would get the best shags of his life for a few months. And best case, well, Draco wasn't thinking about that. He did not want anything to ruin this opportunity. 

He placed his hand in Potters, and leaned in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS I just can't write smut or even like intense kissing scenes I feel so awkward as I write lmao. Is this the limit to my writing?
> 
> Anyways, hope y'all liked it (I really enjoyed writing this). It was heavily inspired by a bunch of different fics I read, but I added some of my own touches too :))


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